


End of the Sofa

by Kalloway



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/pseuds/Kalloway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer in Japan and Ikki just wants... Well, Mime is hot and wants to... Right, anyway... Mime likes to call Ikki 'Brother' and Ikki isn't going to say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Sofa

"It's too hot," Mime complained as he sprawled on the slick, fake-wood flooring in the space between where Ikki half-lay on an old lumpy sofa and the television broadcasting a baseball game that Ikki hadn't really been watching for the last half-hour. There was a metal-framed box fan rattling out a small breeze in Mime's direction, but it didn't seem to be doing much. Mime's hair was damp - evidence of yet another cool shower Mime had taken to try to survive the weather.

Ikki glanced down at Mime and tried to pretend he hadn't been watching since Mime emerged from the bathroom in just a tank top and cut-off shorts. He'd lost track for just a moment, though he'd heard Mime open the fridge door and grab one of the last cans of soda.

He also didn't think his apartment was that hot. Not with the fan and not with the windows open to let in the thinnest wisps of breeze. It was a fairly normal summer day...

Debating the two usual suggestions, Ikki almost sighed. The first was that Mime just go home and wait out the heat in a snow bank where he'd be comfortable. That always earned him a bit of a sad look and a barbed reminder of just why Mime was there. The second was the nicely air-conditioned Kido Mansion, which was loud and busy and tended to end with Mime asleep from exhaustion, Famicom controller still in hand.

"You could--" Ikki began as Mime shifted and drew long pale legs under himself as he folded his arms and rested his head on them on the sofa cushion by Ikki's legs.

"Aren't you hot?" Mime questioned as he sort of lazily half-gestured at Ikki's jeans. Before Ikki could comment that this was just summer in Japan, not an active volcano, Mime added on a soft, almost inaudible, "Brother?"

Ikki sucked in his breath. This had become a bit of a game for them - one that trailed dangerously close to the truth sometimes. But a game, nonetheless. And damn if there wasn't something in Mime's tone that made his dick get half-hard almost instantly.

"I'm fine," Ikki said quickly. He reached for the damp orange fluff of Mime's hair, but it was out of reach without making too much of an obvious effort. "Come up here and watch the game with me."

The sofa really wasn't big enough for two bodies, but that was definitely part of the point. Mime pulled himself up and squeezed into the space between Ikki and the edge, pressing back half out of necessity and half to make Ikki suck in his breath at the contact, Ikki knew.

He didn't bother keeping his fingers out of Mime's hair, winding damp strands into loose curls.

"Who are you cheering for, Brother?" Mime questioned. At that exact moment, Ikki was hard-pressed to remember who was even playing. He glanced at the screen and hastily muttered that he was rooting for the Tigers, of course.

"I'll cheer for them too," Mime said as Ikki let go of his hair and stroked a hand down Mime's arm and side before sliding down over the waistband of Mime's shorts. Ikki hooked his thumb under the material, careful not to rush. Mime - his younger brother, Mime - liked to be teased just a bit.

Ikki had the volume on the television down low enough that it was barely audible over the tinny motor of the box fan, but the game was more a distracting way to keep time. One pitch, slip his hand down a bit, next at bat, touch a bit more to see if Mime was anywhere near as aroused as he was.

"Brother--" Mime hissed as Ikki stroked lower over worn denim. "What are you doing?"

Mime pressed into Ikki's touch then ground back against Ikki's erection. Ikki tried to ignore his own ache as he stroked Mime.

"Making you feel good," Ikki replied. "It makes me feel good..."

"If it's good for you-- Mmm, feels so good..."

Ikki quickly unbuttoned Mime's cut-offs, not at all surprised that the tip of Mime's erection was right there, trapped between denim and warm skin. Drawing a pair of fingers through Mime's pre-come, Ikki lazily circled the tip. He glanced at the television and made Mime wait til the next batter stepped to the plate before pressing his hand down further to slide his palm along Mime's erection.

"Brother..." Mime bucked back and pressed forward against the curve of Ikki's hand. Ikki was bordering on downright discomfort, but he didn't want to stop. Not when Mime was so enthusiastically grinding against him. "Nnn-ahh!"

"Come for me, Mime," Ikki managed. He didn't want to lose, but he was painfully hard and already he had things in mind for his 'little brother' that were far more involved than a one-inning handjob.

"Ah, Brother--" Mime rocked hard against Ikki. "I feel-- Ah! I'm--"

Ikki was fairly sure Mime was still mid-orgasm when he pulled back, using the back of the sofa as leverage, and pressed Mime down against the cushions. He kissed Mime, dragging his fingers into Mime's hair and reveling in how Mime moved against him, nails digging into his back.

Breaking the kiss, Ikki dragged off his own shirt before helping Mime get rid of his sticky tank top. Mime's shorts were next, tugged off and dropped on the floor before Ikki got to his feet to undo his own jeans.

"In my pocket," Mime rasped. His hair was a mess around him and he laid sprawled, semen on his stomach and the orange fuzz above his half-hard penis.

Ikki chuckled. He'd been completely ambushed. He reached down and grabbed for the promised lube before grabbing Mime's ankles and hauling him down to the end of the sofa, ass up on the arm.

"Brother!"

"Don't tell me you were just teasing me," Ikki warned, swallowing his amusement. This was going to destroy his third sofa in the short time Mime had been staying with him. He wondered if eventually he'd stop keeping track.

"I want you to feel good," Mime insisted as he hooked a leg up over the back of the sofa. Ikki didn't waste any time slicking his fingers and pressing a pair against tight muscle.

"Relax for me," Ikki said. "You're doing good."

"Brother--"

Ikki pressed in, stretching and massaging. Mime was nearly hard again by the time he positioned his erection where his fingers had been. After spreading a bit of lube, he pushed forward, hard and deep. Mime just moaned and Ikki had to pause to keep from coming too soon. After a moment, he pulled back and started thrusting slowly, shallowly. The sofa still scraped on the floor and its springs complained, noises mixed with the fan and Mime's soft cries. And the ball game - which caught Ikki's attention just long enough for him to want to laugh. For once, he really was going to think of baseball. At least until Mime was close to coming again.

He started stroking Mime's erection with one hand, the other braced on the sofa and keeping Mime's free leg supported. His own jeans should have come off instead of just undone, he realized, but he'd been in too much of a hurry. Too needy. Mime had been too much - was too much. Unable to help himself, not after a poignant cry that was a mix of his name and 'Brother', Ikki thrust faster and harder into tight heat. Mime was hot, too hot, erection hard in Ikki's hands and wet at the tip.

"Harder, harder, Brother!"

Some part of the sofa cracked, but Ikki didn't pause. Not when his own release was so close. He came as fast and hard as his thrusts had been, hoping he'd gotten Mime's name right. For a few seconds, there was nothing - no protesting sofa, no box fan, no summer heat... Just pure pleasure. And then Mime crying out against, his second release hot against Ikki's hand.

A moment later, Ikki pulled Mime down onto the fake-wood floor with him, sprawled in the space between the sofa and television, in the direct path of the box fan. Now he was hot.

Mime climbed on top of him and kissed him. Ikki returned his kiss and ran his hands over Mime's sweat-soaked back.

"I'll get us drinks when I can walk," Mime mumbled half into Ikki's neck a minute later. "It's too hot..."

The game was over. Probably on television as well. Someone had won.

Neither made any motion to get off the floor for another few minutes. One arm was no longer attached to the sofa and three of its legs had buckled under.

Someone had won.


End file.
